Wrong Side of the Tracks
by truebie1989
Summary: AU where Harley and Joker meet as young adults. Harley is bullied and misunderstood at school, but the new neighbor across the street J is set to change all of that. What happens when two alienated, lost people find each other? And what happens when J leads Harley astray into a world of delinquency and murder?
1. Chapter 1

_Hi all. I've thought of a new story, but its very different and possibly out of characterization for both Harley and Joker. They meet as young adults and both feel accepted by one another. I don't sure what will be thought, but I would like to know very much. Merci, if it is something you would like more of?_

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 _Wrong Side of the Tracks_

Harley sighed loudly in the kitchen chair as her eyes alternated between staring at the textbook in front of her to the windowpane. She started tapping her pencil to a frantic beat distractedly as something caught her eye from straight across from her in the block of units across the road. A blue van was sitting in the driveway while men lugged around boxes of what was presumably furniture

Neighbors. They must have neighbors moving in across the street.

She was supposed to be doing her homework, but homework was so boring. What was happening outside the block of the complex where she lived was that much more exciting.

She heard footsteps, then her mother rushed into the room, both hands finding her shoulders. She gave Harley a warning squeeze as Harley dropped her eyes quickly to the large textbook in front of her. "You better be doing your homework."

"'Course I am." Harley rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance, her smart temper getting the best of her. "What's it look like I'm doing, mother? I'm sitting here!"

She regretted it the moment it erupted out of her mouth and she pressed her lips tightly together, dreading what was about to come next. She knew better than to backchat to her mother, yet half the time, she couldn't help it.

She heard the crackle-pop in her left ear before she truly felt it. Her mother smacked her, half across her ear, half across her jaw, and when the pain hit her, it was fast and brutal. Harley clenched her stinging eyes shut, forcing herself not to cry as she worked her jaw muscles, an ache forming around the area her mother had hit her.

"What have I told you? You absolutely _are not_ to talk back to me like that, you hear me?"

It always usually went down this way. Harley would say something smart with the usual temper fifteen-year-old girls got, and then her mother would punish her for it. Grounding her, taking her computer away from her, her TV time. Hitting her; On the arms, legs, nothing was out of limits to her mother, lashings that gave her massive, sore bruises each and every time. She knew better yet it didn't stop her.

Just like clockwork, it got her father going too. Her unemployed father, who sat in the living room practically all day, waiting for opportunities like this to gang up on her, or so Harley felt it was that way bitterly. "You heard your mother, Harleen! No back-chatting!" He bellowed from in the living room. "Now apologize to her!"

"I'm sorry," Harley muttered obediently, though the sincerity was lacking in her voice.

"What was that?" Her mother stood over her, her voice loud and shrilling.

"I said, I'm sorry, Mother." _What more do you want from me?_ she screamed inside her head mentally. "I was just looking out the window while doing my homework and saw that apparently we have new neighbors across the road."

"Well, stop snooping and get your home work done."

Stop snooping? Speak for yourself, Harley thought grudgingly as she watched her mother move over to the window, blocking her view. Her mother lifted up the blinds, peering out herself. Her mother was the biggest snoop if she ever saw one, Harley believed. Always staring out the windows at every little noise, spying on the neighbors, commenting on the state of their driveways and their cars. Her mother practically had her eyes always glued to what was outside the window and yet, she called Harley the snoop?

"I saw the van pull up here at six this morning."

"At six this morning? Ya sure?" She hadn't heard any noises this morning before waking up at seven to get ready to head to school. Then again, Harley was a heavy sleeper. With parents like hers, who fought and swore at each other every moment they got, she had to be.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear them get in this morning. They were loud, banging things around and yelling. I think it was a father and son." Her mother's back was still facing her as she stared transfixed out the window, still obstructing Harley's view. "The son looks like every bit the menace you are- and his hair... God, don't even get me started. I think the father was drunk or on drugs or something."

Harley was used to her mother throwing snide hurtful comments her way, so she didn't bother taking it seriously. But a new kid was moving in across the road? A boy? Harley's curiosity grew as she glanced back down at the textbook, pretending to focus on the writing. Nothing exciting happened in her neighborhood much. And to have a new boy move in next door? It was the epitome of exciting in Harley's eyes. She couldn't wait to see what he looked like.

When her mother finally gave up on her snooping, she gave Harley a warning glare before retreating back into the living room to watch the TV with her father. Harley could hear them arguing the instance her mother got back in there, and she sighed loudly, resting an elbow on the table, perching her chin against her hand. She glanced back through the blinds again, imagining how she would introduce herself to this new boy. She imagined them becoming quick friends real fast- Harley didn't have many friends that were male. Well, really, she didn't have any friends at all to begin with.

In her daydream, they would become best friends and he'd end up going to the same school as her, and everything would be perfect. No one would make fun of her anymore and they'd be inseparable and after school, instead of homework, they'd run off, catching gross insects and maybe even stealing liquor out of her father's cabinet when her parents were away for the day.

She desperately needed a friend, someone to confide in, somebody who filled her days with new excitement and mayhem. Someone she had in her life other than her parents, who made it clear to her every time she was in their company that she was a nuisance and that they hated her being around.

She remembered her mother's statement about the boys hair and wondered what that was all about. She bit her lip as she cocked her head to the side, staring outside the window, wishing she had the ability to see through brick walls and into their house.

Against her parents wishes, Harley had dyed her usually blonde hair about a week ago, tipping the end strands in foils of red and blue. The dye had been permanent, and it had been a conscious decision made in doing it, because she knew it would anger her parents beyond anything else.

Still, her ribs felt sore and bruises were taking longer to heal around her shoulder from where her mother had beaten her as punishment while her father had looked on, yelling at her at the top of his lungs until he went blue in the face after she had emerged from the bathroom with her different hairstyle. It was something she had done out of an act of rebellion, out of sheer cheek due to her parents strict, conventional, overbearing rules for her.

If she couldn't backchat, if she couldn't smoke or drink or go to parties, if all she was allowed to do was sit quietly at home and do her homework, then... she wanted to do something. Dying her hair was her act of doing so, of expressing free will and individuality, and she could tell her mother resented her for it ever since.

Even the bitchy girls at school, she'd noticed, had looked at her differently.

She never cared much for fitting in- though a side of her secretly yearned for it- but she noticed they would give her more leeway whenever she walked past them in the corridors. They didn't laugh as much whenever she walked past, though they still gossiped and talked among themselves about her.

Dying her hair in ridiculous shades of red and blue, it was like an inside joke, something Harley took pride in. She felt now that she was the one having the last laugh. She was in control, because for once, she gave the girls something to talk and laugh about. And that was her outrageous hair that she wore with pride.

She lifted her gaze to the window again, sighing ever-so-slightly through her nose, her pencil beating against the textbook again. Boring. School work was so boring. So was her life. Everything about it was boring. Subjects at school were boring, her parents and their bossy, dictatorial attitudes were boring. She was sulking, something she did often at her own life's mundane misfortunes, her lips pursing into a frown. Something from across the road caught her eye, and she dropped her pencil. She rested both elbows on the table and leaned forward, watching closely.

There was the boy her mother must have been talking about. Wearing a leather jacket that swallowed him over a baggy flannel shirt, and jeans, he trudged down the front steps of the house. His floppy hair stood out among everything else; a bright shade of green contrasting with pale skin, hair that reached only just to his shoulders.

Harley lifted herself up off the chair and moved away from the table to get a closer look through the blinds, unable to contain her excitement. She watched as he sunk down to sit on the wall that enclosed his new house, his feet bouncing back and forth as he hit the wall with the back of his shoes. Should she go introduce herself to him, seeing as he was alone now? Or should she just wait to see if he made it to the same school she went to?

Her parents would go into a rage if they knew she had abandoned her homework, only to go outside and make friends with her new neighbor across the street. But when were they not mad at her for some thing or another? What did it matter? She'd still get hit later regardless of whether she went outside and not, disobeying their rules about finishing her school work first.

Fluffing her hair with her hands and yanking down her skirt over her fish-net-stocking covered knees, she crept towards the front door, listening carefully. Her parents were still bickering while the TV went off. Listening to her father's voice lift as he shouted, she inched the front door open slightly wider, then she made herself small, slipping through the crack. By the time she had the door completely shut quietly, she craned her neck and saw that the boy was still sitting there, all by himself, kicking the wall angrily with his shoes.

She was so excited to introduce herself that she almost forgot that she had to cross over the road. Breathless by almost running, she stopped, checking the road was clear of traffic before she walked across the road, approaching the boy. Her shoes crunched against loose bits of gravel as she stared at the boy, her heart racing.

He seemed fixated on staring up contemplatively at the sky, but his gaze was drawn to Harley the instance she crossed the road, a sort of shy, friendly smile on her lips. She lifted her hand, twiddling her fingers at him in a wave. He didn't return the wave, she noticed. He simply stared at her and closer, she thought he looked a few years older, probably in a higher year than she was. He seemed mature for his age, his jaw square, his eyes bright grey- and immediately suspicious, wary of her. His green bangs fell across his face and he lifted a hand, tucking his hair behind his ear as she noticed his gaze roam, taking her in.

"Hi there," she said softly, bringing herself to speak.

She felt a little unsure of herself when he looked her over again, leaning back slightly on his wall perch. He wasn't exactly someone she'd consider immediately friendly or welcoming.

"Hi, I... I couldn't help seeing ya across the street. You must be new here." Her smile faltered as she gestured back to the window where her house was. "I live just over there, and I thought I'd come introduce myself."

She glanced back over at him, wondering why she felt so shy and self-conscious; something she usually never felt.

"My name's Harley. Well, Harleen actually but... Harleen's for boring people to say. I much prefer Harley." She jerked her shoulder, a nervous laugh catching in her throat. Mustering her courage, she brought a hand down to him for him to shake, her fingers trembling. "Nice to meet ya. What's your name?"

She bit her lip, waiting expectantly for the boy to shake her hand. To smile or speak and state what his name was, even. He did neither. He merely looked down somewhat judgmentally, it seemed, at the chipped blue nail-polish on her fingernails, then took in her appearance again; The torn, holey fishnet stockings she was wearing, her skirt, her T-shirt. Then her dyed hair. Was it usually this awkward, meeting someone? Maybe he was just shy?

"Anyway, I'm just across the street," she went on, a bit downtrodden, moving her hand away. She couldn't help but feel a bit rejected that he hadn't shook her hand. It was only polite. "Speaking of which, I better get back inside before my parents find out I'm out here. I'm supposed to be doing my homework so..."

The boy obviously didn't want to talk to her. He thought he was too cool, with his dyed green hair and his leather jacket and how much older he obviously was compared to her. He rested both elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, not even afraid of falling, while he stared at her. He wore multiple rings on his fingers and Harley thought she saw a peek of tattooed skin beneath the collar of his flannel shirt, on his collarbone. Tattoos were so cool, though she wasn't old enough to be legally allowed to have one. How did he manage to get a tattoo then? Unless his parents were the liberal, freeing kind. How unfair.

Trying to get him to open up, she tried again.

"Ya got a tattoo?" She couldn't hide the wonder in her voice, the amazement. "Is that real? If it is, then that's _so cool_!" Cheeks growing hot at her gushing, she edged closer in her shoes while fiddling with the bracelet around her wrist with her fingers. "When I get older- like when I become of legal age- its the first thing I'm doing, getting a tattoo, for sure." Her eyes flew down to the area beneath his collarbone curiously in the attempt to catch a better glimpse of it. She noticed he brought up a hand to shake his loose collar around his neck, as if self-conscious or annoyed by her gawking. "Does it hurt much, getting it done?"

Finally, the boy responded to her in a normal way. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze with a small shake of his head, blinking his eyes slowly.

Out of paranoia, she glanced back towards her kitchen window across the street, and she thought she could faintly see the shape and shadow of her mother standing there, watching her interact with the boy with both hands on her hips. She was going to be in so much trouble.

"Shit, my mother's standing there, and now she's probably gonna beat me for this," she trailed off uncertainly, unsure what else to say, though she figured she had already said enough. "Anyway, I better get going." She looked at the boy again, something forlorn creeping inside of her. She wanted to see whether he would open up more to her. It would be so cool to have an older friend, especially one that had tattoos. "Like I said, it's nice meeting ya." She knew what was going to happen once she got inside. Her mother was going to fly at her, and her shoulders slumped as she turned away.

Harley was halfway across the street when she heard him.

"J." She was startled by the sound of his voice when she turned her head back to look at him. He was still watching her while leaning forward towards her on the wall. His voice sounded deep, raspy, and as though it should belong to somebody much older than he looked. "My name's J and, by the way, ya talk too much. Ya too heavy with all that chit-chat." He sounded so confident, so cocky, as if he was doing her a favor by commenting on her nervous tendency to babble on.

Harley reared back on her shoes, stunned. Was he insulting her?

"Yeah? I talk too much?" She shook her head, disbelieving of his insult. "Well, J, I think you talk _too little_. It's like almost talking to a brick wall for all the good it does to me."

He pressed his lips together while the ends of them quirked, and Harley could see he was trying to refrain from laughing. Finally, she'd managed to get him to loosen up around her a little, it seemed. Took a while to get there and a few insults flung back at him, but finally, it seemed she was having success. He went to staring at her again with his intense eyes, and Harley glanced down the road, unnerved by his scrutiny, her face flushed. Why he made her feel the way she did, she had no idea. But maybe, _maybe_ , she admitted to herself, he was sort of cute. A real individual with the green hair.

When she stole a peek up at him again, she saw he was no longer staring at her. He was staring down the road, the muscles in his jaw clenching while something seemed to hold his attention.

Harley wondered what more to say, despite knowing her mother was waiting for her and the amount of trouble she would be in once she got back inside. If she was going to be punished, she decided she would milk it for all it was worth and gain more information about him.

"How old are you anyway?"

J shifted back on the wall to look at her. He leaned back off the wall, propped up by his elbows. "Eighteen. You?" Eighteen explained why he seemed older, more mature than the boys in her grade.

She considered lying but told the truth anyway. "Fifteen. Hey, if your eighteen like ya say, how'd you get your tattoo then? Or is it fake?"

"Nah, it's not fake. My old man's got the equipment."

Her nose scrunched in confusion. "So ya did that to yourself? With your old man's equipment, you mean?"

He nodded with a grunt.

Nervously, she threw a look back up at the window, finding her mother still standing there, watching. She combed her fingers through her hair, biting her lip. She really should get inside and quit talking to him, yet she didn't want to.

"Maybe ya can do one for me one time?" Harley wasn't even sure why she asked it, but it would be cool, seeing how it felt, even if the tattoo was a backyard job and not one properly done by a professional.

"Oh, sure. I'll definitely do that for ya." His voice was quiet and amused. She could tell he didn't really believe what she was saying.

"Well, I better get back inside." She sent another wave his way, her cheeks still flushed. "If ya hear crying and screaming, that's just me getting punished for coming out here." She tried to make it seem like a joke, yet her voice shook with the nerves of what was about to come.

When she trod up the steps to the front door, grasping a hand over the doorknob, yanking it open, she turned back to look at him. He was still lying around there by the wall, watching her. Harley's cheeks heated as she pushed her way inside, grinning widely.

J. His name was J. She wondered if he would become the first ever male friend she'd had. J.

xxx

"God, she's such a weirdo loser..."

"Look at her hair! So weird! And did you see how she was in science? How she, like, spaced out and almost burned her forearm on the Bunsen burner?"

Harley wrapped her arms around her textbooks as the numerous murmuring voices from girls followed her down the corridor. She knew who they were talking about, yet she pretended not to, instead holding her chin held high, a wide open-mouthed smile in place. This was nothing new; The gossip about her, the mean rumors. More often than not, it got her down, but she was determined not to let it show.

Stopping near her locker, she wrenched it open, stowing her books inside. Then she caught a figure lean beside her.

"Hey freak," the sickly sweet, bitchy voice belonged to none other than Lauren Mason.

Lauren Mason was one of the popular girls and though Harley couldn't quite remember what she had done in the first place to make the girl set her sights on her, she'd been picking on her ever since, making it her life's mission to tear her down.

When Harley glanced over at her, Lauren scoffed derisively, running her brown eyes down Harley's clothes condescendingly. "What the hell happened to your hair?"

"Looks like roadkill," one of Lauren's posse snickered from next to her.

"Yeah, it so does!" Another girl giggled, and then they all followed spitefully.

Harley kept the smile on her face with effort, looking between them. Show no pain, was her motto when it came to this type of thing, to whenever these girls bullied her. Show no pain. Grin through it all like their words couldn't touch and reach inside of her.

Another laugh came from behind the group of girls, but it wasn't from another member of their posse. The laughter was fake and sarcastic, coming from a boy.

Unnerved, Lauren and her friends fell quiet, parting from the tight-knit circle where they stood over Harley at her locker to look at who the laughter belonged to. Harley looked around herself, until she saw him standing there, wedged between Lauren and another one of her groupies.

J.

It was J.

He met her eyes then looked at all the girls, one by one, his gaze intense, humorless. Harley almost laughed out loud in amazement at the whole thing; At how uncomfortable the girls seemed by his sudden appearance, at how close he was standing near each of the girls, shoving his face into theirs. There was a silent, wild sheen to his eyes; a warning that Lauren and her bitchy friends had better leave Harley alone or else.

It was so nice of him to stop their teasing. Harley hadn't even been sure he would be attending the same high school as her, but apparently he was.

Then, just like that, all the girls wandered away, their taunts forgotten by how startled they were by the appearance of J, the new boy. Harley could hear them as they rushed off, huddled together in a circle down the corridor.

"Oh my God, who the eff was that?" Lauren whispered to her friends in confusion. "And what's with the colored hair? He's just as weird as she is!"

"Oh, how cute. Harleen's found herself another weirdo freak to play with!" All the girl's snickered at their own joke raucously, their laughter floating down along the corridor.

"Guess I ought to thank ya for that, huh?" Harley forced herself to say after the girls had vanished down along the corridor, out of earshot. "Thanks for sticking up for me and for making 'em back off." She gave him a shy, rueful smile. "They're always doing that, giving me hell."

"Yeah, whatever. Don't mention it." J gave her a tight-lipped smile and shrugged it off, as though it were nothing, while he tucked a strand of green hair behind his ear. She could feel her face flaming with heat when he inclined his head, putting his face near hers, his eyes searching hers. "Want me to help ya carry your bag and your books?"

"You sure you wouldn't mind doing that, though?" She hesitated to hand her books to him. "They can get real heavy?"

"So?" He shrugged, making a nonchalant face. "I practically live next door to you anyway. I'm heading the same way home. What difference does it make?"

With a tentative laugh, Harley accepted, passing a few of her textbooks to him to take home. "Since you put it that way. Sure, that'd be real nice."

When the bell rang for home time, for once Harley didn't walk home alone from school that day. For once, she had a new friend to walk home along with her. And that new friend was J.

 _Would love to know what you think and if its worthy to continue storyline. Apologies if its horribly written I am always nervous how my English is interpreted._


	2. Chapter 2

_Merci, thank you so much for your kind response and encouragement. Hoping you like this chapter. Hoping characterization is still fine and my English isn't too bad. All mistakes are my own!_

"So what classes you doing?" Harley asked, interested, on the walk towards home, hefting the strap of her school bag over her shoulder.

J walked beside her, joining her at a slow, leisurely pace down the street, dragging his feet. Every now and then, he'd kick at a loose rock on the ground with the sole of his big combat boots. He wasn't much of a talker, though Harley had already established that pretty much since the first moment she'd introduced herself to him yesterday.

She found herself mostly being the one initiating all the questions while he seemed content to just be quiet.

He turned to look at her, his mouth agape in confusion. "Classes?"

"Yeah, like... what classes are you doing?" When he brought up a hand to scratch at his chin, still confused, she giggled, astounded. "Ya know, from your timetable?"

"Timetable?" His face suddenly flickered in understanding. "Oh, yeah. Ya mean the paper thing they give out on the first day?"

"Yeah, the paper thing," she played along, laughing again. "The paper thing that tells ya what classes you have each week. The timetable."

"Oh, that. I kinda lit it on fire and threw it away. It burned real good."

She stared at his face, watching him incredulously. She couldn't tell whether he was making a joke or not, but seeing how serious he looked when he glanced ahead of them down the street, Harley realized he _was_ being serious. He'd actually lit his timetable on fire. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or to be amazed.

"So what's with them girls?" he asked bluntly, changing the subject.

Harley felt her stomach roll in unease at the topic. She didn't really like talking about it. On most occasions, she just tried to pretend it never happened. "It always happens with them. They just like to pick on me, I guess." She shrugged, glancing down at the ground. "I guess I'm not normal enough or cool enough for them, so they like to make fun of me, 'cause I'm different, I suppose." She could go all day wondering why the girls picked on her. Then, half the time, Harley decided wondering was pointless. If those girls didn't like her and wanted to make her life a living hell, then what gives? Why try to look for a good enough reason?

"What's not normal or uncool about ya?"

Harley's eyes flickered over to his face at the question. It was the first time somebody had ever said something fairly nice to her, disputing what she knew everybody else in school thought.

"Everything, apparently." She covered her pain with a forced laugh. "But I don't care what them girls think anyway. I try not to let 'em get to me. I figure they're just so unhappy with their own lives, that they've got to have somebody out there to take it out on. Like they're bullying me just to make themselves feel better, ya know?"

"Well, I, uh..." He paused, clearing his throat gruffly. She could tell what he was about to say made him feel uncomfortable. He wouldn't even look her way, keeping his grey eyes forward as his pale cheeks reddened slightly. "I think ya both pretty cool and normal."

"Really? Ya think I'm cool?" Harley's voice was shaky and emotional as she stared at the side of his face, her face glowing hot. She was radiant with happiness, too touched by his compliment. "But ya only just met me barely a day ago?"

He jerked his shoulder nonchalantly, a strand of green fringe falling into his eyes as he amended hastily, "Exactly. I mean that ya, um, seem pretty cool and normal from what I _can tell_ , anyway."

Harley was grinning so hard she could feel her cheeks start to hurt. "Well, thanks. Nobody has ever really said such nice stuff to me before."

"Yeah, well. Ya don't got to make such a big deal out of it. I was just saying." He met her eyes briefly before he glanced away again, jerking his head, the muscles in his throat twitching as he swallowed loudly. "Not that I ain't meaning what I said about ya being cool. I mean, I don't just sweet-talk somebody for the hell of it. I'm not sweet-talking or anything like that..." He pressed his lips together, as if to stop himself from rambling on. Harley found it strangely endearing, how uncomfortable he was. But she assumed, that was boys for you; They couldn't handle saying nice things or talking about feelings. She decided she could have listened to his coarse, deep voice all day. Just like yesterday, she was met with the impression that his voice should belong to someone far older than eighteen.

"Well, J, I think ya pretty cool, too," she murmured, that strange shy feeling overcoming her again. "And what you did with stupid Lauren in the hallway..." She smiled to herself, shaking her head at the memory. How Lauren and all of her friends were quiet the instance J laughed in a silly, fake way behind them. Then how he got real close to their faces, making them squeamish and nervous. "That was so cool! The looks on their faces!"

"Oh, girls like them..." He trailed off deeply, and when Harley brought her eyes over to him, she was struck by how grim he looked as he tilted his head back, peering up at the clouds forming in the sky. His jaw muscles contracted as he squeezed out through gritted teeth maliciously, "Girls like them, ya just wanna... murder."

Murder? Her brows furrowed as she swallowed, unnerved by his seemingly severe change of mood. "Murder?" she repeated, unsure whether to laugh. "Ya want to murder them?"

"What? Don't even you think about it sometimes? What it'd be like, murdering 'em? Just... girls like them? Or just even... people? What it'd be like?"

It was a heavy subject to speak about. Tightening the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she moved a hand down, playing with the bracelet on her wrist. She couldn't say she'd thought about it much before. "I've never really wondered about it all that much," she admitted. "But sometimes, when things get real bad with Lauren teasing me, I'd think about doing something terrible to her. Only when she's pushed me far enough, though. Like she's spread rumors around school that I'm a lesbian, and one time, she cornered me in the bathroom with her friends and tried to shove my head down the toilet. After those times, I'd definitely felt tempted to do something real bad to her."

"So why Harley?" How fast he was to divert the subject, it startled her. "Why the name Harley? Are ya parents nuts over motorcycles or something?"

She laughed, admittedly relieved for the subject change. Talking about Lauren, about murder, it felt too dismal and serious for her liking. "Ya not the first person who's asked me that, whether my parents called me Harley due to the bike," she explained, grinning. "But remember, like I told ya yesterday, my full name is actually _Harleen_ , not Harley. I've just always liked being called Harley better."

"Ya right. Harley's way better than Harleen. Harleen's way too... old-fashioned." He made a comical face of disgust, causing Harley to giggle again. "Like for a grandma or a grown-up or something." She thought she saw his grey eyes brighten every time she laughed; As though he was glad he had the ability to make her laugh. "Glad I amuse ya so much," he added under his breath, though he didn't smile.

Harley couldn't decide whether he was hinting at being offended or not. "Aw, I don't mean to laugh at ya like I think you're silly or anything like that. I'm just not used to people actually wanting to talk to me. As ya can probably already tell, I don't get friends to talk to all that much."

"Well, Harley, ya got one now," he said casually. And as the words sunk in and she finally grasped what he had meant, she beamed happily.

Friends was not a concept she was all that familiar with. Her smile grew so wide that her lips began to get all twitchy at the pain of smiling so hard.

"Really?" she asked, a hint of doubt there. "So ya gonna be my friend?"

"Yeah, sure." He seemed indifferent, as though he didn't care either way. "Why not?" But it was still nice.

She wondered if she was coming across as too desperate for him to like her. It was just, in her way of thinking, for so long, it had felt as though the entire world were against her. She had felt so completely alone for such a long period of time that it was amazing, having the experience now, in having someone like J speaking to her and walking home with her.

Even if he had only offered simply because he lived next-door to her and because he had to walk home that way himself, even if it was simply as a way to pass the time rather than actually in the aim of befriending her, it was still unbelievable, talking to someone. Especially someone older like him, someone eighteen, someone with a tattoo. To have someone wanting to actually be friends _with her_ , it made her feel giddy.

She lifted a hand, raking her fingers through the end strands of her hair as she saw him watch her out of the corner of her eye. She tried to stop smiling, trying to straighten her mouth out. Only it didn't stay that way for too long. Barely ten seconds later, she was grinning again.

"So, ya like cotton candy or something?"

Harley swallowed, staring at him with squinted eyes in confusion. "Huh?"

"Ya hair, I mean." As a way to emphasize the question, he reached over, tugging a little at a wayward strand of dyed blue hair between his thumb and a heavily ringed forefinger meaningfully. Harley felt herself flush furiously at the cheeks, but the touch was brief, ending just as quickly as he had done it. He pulled his hand away, clutching her books again. "Looks like cotton candy, the... colors. Ya big on cotton candy?"

"Um, sure. I guess I like cotton candy. It's not the reason why I wanted to dye my hair, though." Hoping it would impress him, she continued haughtily, "I kinda just wanted to piss my mother and my father off. They were so mad when they found out I'd done it, but it was... fun, doing something on purpose that I knew they wouldn't be too happy about." Her voice shook and was scratchy with glee at remembering her mother's reaction, at how her father had demanded she try wash the dye out of her hair, only to learn it was permanent. "I wanted to get back at them, ya know?"

J grunted in response, nodding.

"So why'd ya decide to move here, of all places?" she asked, hoping she sounded unexcited by the former comment made of them being friends that was still fluttering by inside her head.

"It wasn't my decision. It was my old man's, and whatever he does, I gotta do it, too. Not sure I'm liking it here, though." She noticed J sounded abrupt on the topic of his father, as though he didn't particularly like speaking of him much. Harley couldn't blame him if he felt that way, though. She didn't particularly enjoy the idea of speaking about her mother and father to him, either.

"Ya picked a lousy area to live in then. It can be real boring here. Nothing happens all that much."

"Yeah? Why are _you_ here then?"

"Because its practically where I was born. I guess my parents have never felt like moving. Guess they're happy living here."

Playing with the bracelet on her wrist again, she turned to look at him, studying him while they walked. She hadn't noticed it yesterday, probably because she hadn't been close enough to get a good look at him, but Harley thought she saw a dark area beneath the corner of his right eyelid. Was it a bruise? A bruise that was slowly beginning to heal? Harley wasn't a stranger to the appearance of bruises, especially after the treatment she'd get from her mother on a regular basis. It definitely looked like a bruise.

"What's with under your eye?" Harley asked before she could stop herself. She had never been good with being tactful. Her curiosity always won out. "Ya got a bruise there or something?"

She could immediately tell he wasn't happy with her asking. He brought up a hand, touching the darkened spot beneath his eye with the tips of his forefinger and middle finger lightly, delicately, as though it was still tender to the touch. J's demeanor changed in rapid succession, alarming her. His shoulders tensed, his jaw tightened.

"Anybody ever tell ya to mind your own business before?" he muttered under his breath, his voice going sharp and deeper in irritation.

Getting him mad was the last thing she had wanted to do. "Oh, no. I... I never meant nothing by it." She smiled apologetically. "It's just that... I was just wondering what happened to ya eye, that's all. It looks real... sore." Clearly, J felt sensitive about it. Harley wondered if he went through the same thing she did, with her parents. Did his old man beat on him sometimes as punishment, too?

The rest of the walk was spent in a strange silence. Harley could feel the tension, the rage simmering off J over her bringing the topic up. Every time she glanced his way, she could see he was staring fixedly ahead, refusing to look at her. He'd just switch sides with carrying her heavy textbooks, his eyes narrowed. Sometimes she thought she would hear him sigh loudly through his nose. It was clear to her that she had ruined it, that he now no longer wanted to be near her after the subject she had brought up.

She had always hated the feeling of people being angry at her over something she had done. She bit her lip while picking off the already chipped blue nail-polish on her thumbnail, feeling almost on the verge of tears. When she brought her eyes up to him again, she saw he was muttering something; something wordless, his lips moving. Then he shook his head in seeming frustration, strands of green hair falling into his eyes, as if he was arguing and disagreeing with himself. She saw his lips quirk slightly into a small smile- the quietest, breathy laughing sound leaving him- as though his own thoughts had amused him. It was perplexing. Harley wondered if he was hearing voices inside his head.

When they reached the street to where they both lived, Harley saw him stop walking, shifting on his feet. She glanced up at him, and he gave her what seemed to be a glum, unhappy smile.

"Well, I guess I'll leave ya here," he said, an undercurrent of annoyance still in his tone.

"Leave me here?" Harley shook her head, arching her eyebrows in confusion. "What ya mean?" She licked her lips, gesturing towards where their houses were, a few meters away on each side. "We've just got to walk a little further to where each of our houses are?"

His hand that was holding all of her heavy textbooks shot out quicker than she was ready for, and Harley had to catch them quickly in both arms when he shoved them at her while staring deeply into her eyes. He had that same sheen to them that she'd seen at school in the corridor, the malicious dark gleam when he'd side-eyed bitchy Lauren and her friends for making fun of her. Without a further word or so much as a smile or a goodbye, he turned and strode down the street towards where his house was, his steps fast and brisk, his arms swaying at his sides.

Harley felt her stomach sink as she watched the back of his too-large leather jacket, wondering what she had done wrong. Was he still angry over her mentioning the bruise? How come he hadn't wanted to walk further down along the road with her?

 _Hope this chapter wasn't too bad and that I am still having them characterization wise. It's a bit hard writing them as young adults in school but I hope its not too bad. What are you thinking so far? Merci, I very much enjoy knowing what you feel or think on this._


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